Talk:Gordon Ramsay vs Julia Child/@comment-5660191-20160516194922
Here's my best guess at the lyrics (I didn't do this from scratch; I took someone else's and added corrections): EPIC RAP BATTLES OF HISTORY! GORDON RAMSAY! VS! JULIA CHILD! BEGIN! Gordon Ramsay: And that's how you make a perfect risotto Right, Mrs. Child, welcome to the grown-ups’ table I've got exactly two minutes and you should be grateful Cause I'm in the fucking weeds with all these shows to pitch I keep my ovens preheated and my pilots green-lit I'm a seasoned skillet, you're a PAM-sprayed pan I've got Michelin stars, you're like the Michelin Man I'm rolling in dough, like Beef Wellington from (?)hors d’œuvres(?) And I'm shitting on you like I'm wack flows intolerant Julia Child: Oh, isn't that a wonderful thing? A grumpy little chef who thinks he can bring Enough salt to justify getting rough With the butter-loving queen of the bourguignon boeuf I rock hard as concrete on top of these bomb beats Been chopping the pommes frites since you sucked on your mom's teats I served America dutifully, and I sliced lard beautifully I reigned supreme from shark repellent to charcuterie Go on and cross your arms in that b-boy stance And when it comes to hot cuisine, there's one F-word: France Here's a nice amuse-bouche, take a poor abused youth Set a thirty-year timer, voila! Huge douche! You're a namby-pamby candy-assed pansy, Gordon Ramsay You couldn't rap your way out of a pastry bag, understand me? I laugh and create, you berate and destroy But fear, my dear boy, is less fun, just enjoy Gordon Ramsay: I'm glad that you got that off your giant, flabby chest I'd call you Donkey but you look more like Shrek When the Iron Man chef busts a rhyme I'll open up on you like a fine red wine I'm a culinary innovator, you're no creator Regurgitating French plates like a glorified translator I'm fresh, you're past your expiration date Alright, fuck it, blue team, drop the bouillabaisse (yes, chef!) I’ve seen your little show and it sure ain't pretty One part Big Bird, two parts Miss Piggy You can't test me with your fatty recipes Call your book "Mastering the Art of Heart Disease" I mean, it's rubbish, (yes, chef!) look at page 408 Tell me, who the fuck (yes, chef!) would ever learn to cook calf brains? You call these (?)ris de veau(?)? (no, chef!) They're stale and soft Now, here, take this jacket… Now give it back and fuck off! Julia Child: Oh please, your defeat's guaranteed Concede, I've got this in the bag, sous-vide (ha!) Michelin indeed, you've done well for yourself But as a person, you couldn't get a star on Yelp I could freeze a steak with those frosted tips What's with that bitter taste in every word from your lips? You scream at women, while the fits that you're pitching Make you the pissiest bitch in the kitchen I'll pat you on the head, melt you, and stick it to ya Anything's good with enough butter, boo-yah! Oh, I'm so glad you spent this time with me Now eat a dick, bon appétit WHO WON? WHO’S NEXT? YOU DECIDE! EPIC RAP BATTLES OF HISTORY!